


Unparalleled Sexual Prowess

by vkusno-katsudon (xevinx)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Drunk Sex, Edging, Grand Prix Final Banquet, Hand Job, Let's be real this is kinda crack-y, M/M, Oral Sex, Outrageous Flirting, Post-Canon, Rimming, Sassy Boys, Surprise surprise it's another drunk Phichimetti hookup, in Barcelona
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-19 21:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11906445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xevinx/pseuds/vkusno-katsudon
Summary: Phichit and Chris can't agree on which one of them Yuuri and Victor would rather have a threesome with... but they find a way to settle the bet.





	Unparalleled Sexual Prowess

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fun little one-shot to get my Phichimetti muse flowing, it's the first time I've written them so hopefully I've done them justice!
> 
> Thanks to Regi ([totaldislocation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/totaldislocation/)) for the prompt for this fic!

"Do you think that Viktor and Yuuri would ever have a threesome?" Christophe asked his friend beside him.

"Um, whoa, where did that come from?"

Phichit turned to face Chris from the screen where they were watching Yuuri (and Victor)'s exhibition skate. They were at the Grand Prix Final official banquet, each with more than a few drinks down him, hence the rather bizarre and seemingly random question.

"There was a reasonable train of thought behind it," Chris tried to explain. "I was just thinking about the last time I was here in Barcelona, when I had an unbelievable threesome with this couple I met. So, what do you think? Would Victor and Yuuri...? Of course, if they  _did –"_

"– They'd  _definitely_  ask me," the two of them chorused, followed by a "huh."

Chris broke their little bout of speaking in unison, his lips twisting into a slight pout. "Interesting. I'm sorry to tell you that you're  _wrong,_  petit."

"No,  _you're_  wrong," Phichit said plainly, as if his words could never possibly be contested.

"I know how to settle this; it's easy." Chris placed his near empty flute of champagne down on the table beside them. "Why don't we just ask the couple themselves?"

"What does the winner get?"

"Pride." Chris chuckled before adding, "and the possibility of a threesome, potentially."

They found the happy couple sat at a table in the corner, unsurprisingly all over each other. Not necessarily in a crude way, but they were sat so close together that Victor was practically in Yuuri's lap; their bodies couldn't physically have been any closer. From the way that Yuuri had his hand resting a little too high up Victor's thigh and the way Victor nuzzled at his neck, it seemed as though Phichit and Chris hadn't been the only ones who had indulged in the excess of free champagne around.

Chris marched up to the pair, hands on his hips, followed closely by Phichit. They weren't even noticed, at first.

"We need you to a settle a bet," Chris explained briefly. "If you decided to have a threesome, who would you invite to be your third? Phichit or I?"

Now that caught both of their attentions. Yuuri blinked slowly, blindsided, while Victor's eyes widened comically.

Silence.

"It's only a rhetorical question!" Phichit insisted, hoping that might coax an answer out of the pair.

Nope.

"Look, I know, it's not that difficult a question," Chris slurred, the champagne catching up with him, "and it's  _obvious_  that you would choose me, so just tell Phichit the truth."

Phichit elbowed his friend's side for that, eyes narrowed in playful disdain.

"Good try. What he means is the real truth. That you would pick  _me."_

No one expected the reply that came out of Yuuri's mouth.

"How do you know it would be either of you?" he smiled, glassy eyed and daring.

Phichit's jaw dropped open at that but Chris remained steadfast.

" _Come on,"_  he pressed, "between the two of us, who would it be?"

"We'll have to confer and get back to you," Victor declared diplomatically, and the pair stood up almost in tandem, inching away from the table — and especially from the conversation.

"It's not us you have to convince, it seems, but each other!" Victor exclaimed, throwing his head back as he led Yuuri onto the dance floor, his voice becoming drowned out by the music.

They turned back to face each other.

"I guess that's that," Chris commented, and he started searching out another glass of champagne.

Phichit followed close behind him, helping himself to one too. _"Hell, no._  Like Victor said, we'll have to sort it between ourselves."

Chris sighed deeply and rested his free hand on Phichit's shoulder. "This might be embarrassing for you, petit."

"Oh, we'll see about that." He wasn't giving up that easy, no way.

"I'm ready to plead my case."

"Alright then, I am too."

Forget the fact that they had just competed in an international figure skating competition, this little bet suddenly had much higher stakes. Then again, perhaps it was no surprise that the two lowest placed skaters of the event were drawn towards a fun distraction.

"Where do we start? Surely previous experience with Victor or Yuuri gains points here," Chris proposed. "Have you and Yuuri ever...?"

"No. That's not fair. You  _obviously_  have –"

"I do have previous experience, but it's not with  _Victor."_

"What?"

"His second year of seniors, I believe it was." Chris donned a shit-eating grin, his emerald eyes twinkling.

_"Shut up."_

"We made out behind a pillar somewhere. I believe I've been blessed with the gracious presence of a drunk Yuuri Katsuki well before Victor, and even before you."

"Well, damn."

"So, I think I win."

"A drunk makeout session does  _not_  mean you win." Phichit straightened his posture obstinately. "You didn't sleep with him. Although I can't believe you and Victor really never –"

"Just like the rest of the world. We did play along with it a little bit, I suppose. But I think I was always too jealous  _of him_  to pay any thought to the idea of being  _with_  him." Well, that was unnecessarily honest. "Not that I wouldn't do it," he added so as not to compromise his position in this bet, and then shrugged nonchalantly. Chris really was the type who would try anything, once.

As he caught sight of a group selfie being taken across the room, Phichit was struck with a blunt realisation.

"Crap, I haven't posted any pics at the banquet yet!"

He pulled out his phone and quickly skimmed through the notifications that had gathered in the time that the music inside had drowned out their alerts.

"We can remedy that," Chris intoned smoothly, placing a hand on Phichit's back and stepping closer, in place for a selfie.

Just as Phichit clicked the camera icon on the screen to capture an image, Chris slid his hand down to give his left buttcheek a little squeeze.

"Hey!" Phichit jumped and turned around, fire in his eyes. "Nice try, but you're not getting the better of me that way."

"Oh, you wound me." Chris placed a hand over his heart in mock surprise. "I was only appreciating a fine work of art."

"Yeah,  _right._  Flattery won't get you anywhere, Giacometti."

Chris pouted defeatedly as Phichit posted the photo to Instagram. When he looked back up, he was sure that they were stood far closer than they had been all night.

"So."

"So."

"Why is this so important to you?" Chris questioned, regarding the other man closely. All bias aside, he was certain he was the obvious choice. It just  _made sense._

After almost half a bottle of champagne, Phichit's tongue was a little looser than his sober self might have liked. "Because people don't see me as  _sexy_. I'm seen as the cute, fun friend, not the hot guy that you go to for mind-blowing sex. What everyone seems not to understand is that I'm a  _firecracker_  in bed."

Chris listened intently and then nodded once, smiling at that last part. "Do elaborate."

"Well, firstly, I'm an amazing kisser, verified by pretty much everyone I've been with." 

"Mon chéri, kissing is less than half the game –"

"I said  _firstly."_

Chris continued anyway, going for shock value. "If you want to get down to  _special_   _skills_...  _no one_  eats ass like Christophe Giacometti. In fact, I'm sure that's written on more than a few bathroom walls, all over the world actually."

Chris wore a restrained but smug little smile on his face.

Quirking a brow, Phichit rolled his eyes. He should have expected Chris to be the kind to refer to himself in third person. His ego was quite the mountain to go up against but Phichit wasn't going to relent.

"Bathroom wall scribblings are gospel truth now, are they? In that case, I have a hoard of rather incriminating information about JJ."

Chris scoffed in genuine surprise. "You're a feisty one, aren't you?"

He had a sudden inclination to reach out and ruffle Phichit's hair. The shorter man squirmed away but it only served to make him more determined.

"I have  _special skills_  too, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted." He gave Chris a little glare. "I'm  _incredible_  at fingering."

That came with a good amount of practice and Chris didn't need to know that it was mostly... on himself. The point was that Phichit was  _incredible_  at it.

"You might be, but my hands are  _magic_ , in terms of massages and, uh —  _happy endings_.  _Godlike."_

A silence passed over them.

"Nothing more?" Chris teased, giving Phichit a playful poke in his side.

"No! I've got more," insisted Phichit.

"Oh, what else?"

 _Fuck._  He didn't have more. Phichit's mouth had run faster than his brain; alcohol always sped up the former and slowed down the latter. He had put himself right on the spot. A few seconds went by, then a few more, and more, until –

"Ah — I'm  _vers!"_  he realised aloud, much louder than he needed to be considering how close to each other they were standing.

Chris couldn't help but let out a soft chortle at the sudden proclamation – but he also noticed that it had garnered them more than a few strange glances.

"Let's get away from the crowd," he decided, and took a light hold of Phichit's wrist before leading him outside of the banquet hall to an empty, secluded part of the hallway.

"Don't think I'm letting that one go," Phichit maintained, hands on his hips now. "What I was saying was.... uh... oh, yeah! I could fit in pretty much anywhere they wanted me. I'm  _flexible_  – figuratively and literally."

"So am I." Chris shrugged, lips pursed defiantly. Despite that, he did appreciate Phichit's unwavering self-confidence; that was one of the little things that was unimaginably attractive to him.

" _You're_  vers?" Phichit questioned. For some reason, that came as somewhat of a surprise. Not that Phichit had pondered Christophe Giacometti's sexual preferences to any serious extent.

Chris chuckled at the perplexity written over Phichit's face. "Sometimes..." he explained remarkably slowly, "people that are taller... can bottom."

This new knowledge about Chris opened up a world of possibilities.  _That_  was Phichit's next thought, and he wasn't thinking yabout that in the context of Victor and Yuuri in the slightest.  _Uh oh._

"Alright, so we draw on that one," he declared, ready to move the conversation along, grateful that the blush colouring his cheeks wouldn't be obvious. "Oh, of course! Why didn't I mention this before? I'm energetic, I have a special  _youthful_   _vigour,_  which I'm sure would be highly appreciated."

"If you're playing the age card, then I can too. My age means that I have a  _wealth_  of experience, petit."

"Oh yeah?" Phichit leaned up, trying more to be intimidating than seductive. "I might be a little younger than you but oh, I have  _experience_  too. You know  _nothing,_  Giacometti."

"That's cute."

"Don't call me cute." There was a darkness glazing over Phichit's eyes that sent a hot shiver down Chris's spine. The temperature of the room felt as though it just shot up by a hundred degrees.

_"Oh non?"_

"No. Dammit,  _how_  could we settle this?" Phichit wondered aloud, snapping them out of that odd moment that they had just shared. It wasn't completely gone, though; it had spurred the beginnings of an idea to take shape somewhere at the back of his mind. "How do I  _convince_  you of my skills?"

"I don't believe anything that I haven't  _personally_  experienced. Maybe you should  _prove yourself."_

Phichit internally cursed Chris for being so goddamn unflappable. He couldn't judge whether this was all part of his careless, flirty routine or he was seriously on the same wavelength as him, was actually propositioning him. Absolutely nothing on Chris's face, nothing in his features gave him away. It was  _highly_  frustrating.

"Is that a challenge?" Phichit asked straight out, jutting out a hip and cocking his head to one side.

Chris's voice was low, breathier than its usual tone, as if he were revealing a scandalous secret. "It's whatever you want it to be."

This was slipping into new territory, and upon brief — very brief — reflection Phichit found that he didn't mind. Because fuck, Christophe Giacometti was  _hot._ Flustered just a touch, even though he'd never admit it, Phichit leaned back slightly. But he had nowhere to go; his back hit the wall and now Chris was stood firmly in his personal space, hovering so close that Phichit's head filled with the heady scent of his aftershave.

"You know, I really am the best kisser you'll ever meet," Phichit reiterated. He blinked up at Chris, barely short of fluttering his lashes.

As if following a well-choreographed dance, Chris took half a step closer and and rested a hand on the wall beside Phichit in one fluid, smooth motion. His eyes were in no way subtle as they dropped down to concern themselves with Phichit's glossed lips.

"The best kisser,  _mon dieu,_  that alone is a bold claim to be making," he drawled.

 _"Try me,"_  whispered Phichit, acutely aware as the words rolled off of his tongue that this was the point of no return. Something shifted irreversibly between them. 

Their lips met and the kiss deepened almost instantly, Phichit working his way into Chris's mouth until he knew what he meant. The combination of those wonderfully soft, pliable lips and the bold but completely natural swirls of his tongue almost had Chris's head spinning when they pulled apart for air, it made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He thought he managed to hold his own pretty well, though.

"Not bad," he concluded, but he smiled through his words, and that gave him away. "Not bad at all."

Chris pushed his body as close as his lips had been, slotting a thigh between Phichit's legs and practically pinning him up against the wall. Breath hitched in Phichit's throat as Chris set about dragging his mouth along his jawline, peppering his neck with kisses and the odd lovebite here and there.

"I know how to use my mouth, too," Chris murmured against the hot skin of Phichit's neck, already covered in a light sheen of sweat.

Grinding clumsily against each other, they were both hard already, a testament to their efforts considering the amount of alcohol they had consumed.

"What was that you said," Phichit gasped, fingers grasping at the collar of Chris's shirt,  "about eating ass?"

He received a little nip of his earlobe in reply. "My room is just upstairs."

* * * * *

When they finally arrived at Chris's room, their shirts were already untucked and unbuttoned halfway down their chests, both of their hair was scruffy and their hands were all over each other.

With impatience driving them, they made out against the door while getting the rest of their clothes off, unable to tear themselves away from each other even just for that. Once the clothes were dealt with, Chris stepped back towards the bed, pulling Phichit by his loosened tie — the only item of clothing he was still wearing.

He turned around and pushed him lightly onto the bed, standing at the foot of it himself.

"Turn over." That may have been a command but Chris's voice was anything but stern; it was soft and affected, and filled with a million promises. 

Phichit obliged, cheekily sticking his behind up in the air.

For a few seconds Chris just marvelled at the sight before him, the beautiful curve of Phichit's spine down to his ass, the muscles in his back rippling under the skin. There, in that moment, he had no idea what Phichit meant by people not seeing him as sexy, because  _hot fucking damn._

Phichit turned his head back with a little grin. "Appreciating the  _'fine work of art?'"_

"Oh, you know it."

With that, he knelt down and got started with appreciating it  _another way,_  just as he had discussed.

Phichit couldn't help but let out little whimpers, his eyelids fluttered as he melted under Chris's warm mouth and wandering hands, until he was very suddenly at the brink and then he...

...pulled away.

"Wait, wait," Phichit insisted, fighting the way that his body that was shaking with desire for release. He wasn't giving up so easily. "Not yet, it's... it's  _my_  turn."

Chris sighed disappointedly, but he didn't exactly mind it being Phichit's turn to show him what he's got.

"Where do you want me?" he asked, excitement glimmering in his eyes.

"Shit, do you have lube?" Phichit asked, momentarily concerned.

"What do you take me for?" Chris retorted, acting offended. He found his suit jacket by the door and retrieved a sachet before throwing it over to Phichit, who caught it in one hand. "Well-trained reflexes."

"Just you wait and see," Phichit almost sung, and then he fucking  _winked,_  which in and of itself already had Chris feeling light-headed. "Lie down on the bed, on your back."

He understood then that he was going to be blessed with Phichit's  _'incredible'_  fingering skills. Chris very quickly discovered that  _incredible_  really was an apt choice of word to describe Phichit's dexterity, because  _fuck,_ it was like nothing he'd experienced before. He simply couldn't restrain the satisfied little sounds leaving his mouth, which only provided a confidence boost for Phichit to push him further and further. Chris was putty in the younger man's hands; Phichit could feel him trembling as he leaned over to kiss him some more.

But Chris couldn't give in just yet. The hand in Phichit's hair raked through the roots before gripping hard.

"Okay, okay, surely it's my turn again," he breathed against sharp collarbones.

Phichit begrudgingly lifted himself off of Chris before sitting down at the foot of the bed, legs dangling over the edge.

"You had better not just give me a massage," he joked.

Chris rolled his eyes. "I know what I'm doing."

He  _really_  did.

He assumed position on his knees in front of Phichit, which, with the height difference, brought them pretty much face to face. A determined hand wrapped around Phichit's erection and Chris started off slow, gently teasing him with a pulsing motion. Then he began to very lightly roll the skin on the underside between the pads of his thumb and index finger, all the while tapping Phichit's length with the other fingers. It was different, in a  _great_  way.

"Points for creativity," Phichit murmured between laboured gasps.

"Why, thank you." He even gave a little bow for Phichit's sake.

Before long, Phichit was so aroused that even the lightest traces of Chris's fingertips had him losing his mind. Trust Christophe Giacometti to turn something as simple as a hand job into such a masterful display of skill. He thumbed the tip of Phichit's cock with a delicate touch that had him bucking his hips up in search of more friction.

"Patience, petit."

Chris cupped the side of Phichit's face with his free hand and rested his forehead against his, eventually moving faster, gripping harder and twisting his hand with each stroke.

"You good?"

"Yes," Phichit breathed out, taking a moment or two to gather his composure.  _"Yes."_

He was  _really_  good,  _too_  good. As much as he would have liked not to have been the first to come, Phichit's pride seemed no match for Chris's talents. Soon enough, he spilled over his chest and the other's hand with a little grunt, burying his face in the crook of Chris's neck.

But that wasn't him done, no, it was time to put that youthful vigour of his on show. Phichit still had a trump card up his sleeve, one that he held every confidence in.

"I'm not finished. Lie back like you were before," he commanded, eyes hazed and still blurry with lust. Chris did just as he was told, anticipation sparking in his nerves.

Phichit built up to it slowly, but his final 'move' was still  _earth-shattering,_  almost too much to bear. He had eased Chris's length all the way down his throat, and at the same time Phichit had three of his fingers inside of him, working their magic. Fingers pushed in and down in just the right way, and he hummed around him, sending pleasant vibrations resonating through Chris's body. Phichit's brows were furrowed in concentration, and Chris found the expression on his face so simultaneously hot and adorable that he thought he might lose consciousness just from that.

But Phichit persisted, he did his thing, drew Chris closer and closer to the edge –

– until he stilled the motions of his hand completely, slid his mouth off and away from Chris and just looked up at him through half-lidded eyes.

The night air created a cold sensation against Chris's wet arousal, which he hissed out at. Propping himself up on his elbows, he begged, "Petit,  _ahh,_  don't be such a tease!"

"You want more?" Phichit asked with a feigned innocence, before leaning over to swipe his tongue over a nipple.

"Yes, just –" Chris's hands fisted the bedsheets as he writhed with need.

"So, do you admit that you were wrong? That I  _do_  know what I'm doing?"

Patience was now escaping Chris entirely. He would have said next to anything to get Phichit to  _just carry on._

"Yes, I concede,  _fuck,_  just do that again!"

He did, and this time he took Chris all the way, even swallowing around him when he found his release, as he drowned in a sea of pleasure.

Shattered, Chris fell back against the bed with a soft thud and he stared up at the ceiling, still seeing stars.

 _"Where_  did you learn that?" Suppressing your gag reflex to deepthroat was no mean feat;  _of course_  Chris had tried it many times, and he was still far from mastering it.

Phichit straddled Chris's hips and leaned over him, grinned and tapped his nose playfully.

"Tough luck, Giacometti," he chirped, eyes twinkling with pride. "Looks like I win. So... was it better than the threesome you had the last time you were here?"

Chris caught his breath before answering, "I think I would gladly forsake threesomes  _entirely_  for that."

Phichit's smile widened to reach from ear to ear, exuding a bashful smugness.

"You know," he began, fingertips crawling up and down Chris's chest absentmindedly, "I think our  _extraordinary_  skills would be wasted on Victor and Yuuri."

"Hmm," Chris purred in agreement, lips twitching into a smirk, "much better we keep them to ourselves, don't you think?"

"I'm glad you agree," mumbled Phichit, the last of his words being swallowed by Chris's mouth as it pressed against his own.

* * * * *

Room service breakfast in bed was the perfect ending to a rather perfect night, likely the best consolation possible after their disappointing turns at the GPF. They lounged around for a few hours and it didn't feel awkward, the conversation wasn't stilted in anyway — in fact it was lighter, even flirtier than previously (if that was possible), and so, so much fun.

When they left Chris's room late in the morning they bumped into Yuuri. He had an announcement to make, one that he ran with without even acknowledging that his two friends had clearly emerged from the same room, in last night's clothes. Perhaps it was too obvious to bother questioning them about. Perhaps their sleeping together had been far too predictable.

"By the way, Victor and I made a decision regarding your silly little bet."

"You did?" Phichit perked up — as did Chris a second or two later, reflexes slowed by his late-hitting hangover.

"A fellow skater and friend dear to our hearts."

They both puffed out their chests a little in anticipation and Victor worried his lower lip to keep himself from grinning outright.

"...Cao Bin."

_What?_

The Chinese skater, well known to most of the competitors on the international circuit, had been absent from this season with an injury. He was quite the wildcard choice.

"The two of us are both friendly with him, comfortable around him, but neither of us are so close to him that it would be awkward."

"Sorry, guys." Victor shrugged as he joined Yuuri in the doorway, lips bearing the hint of a self-impressed smile.

"Huh." That was well played by the couple, Chris should have known they would just poke fun at the whole thing. (Regardless, Cao  _was_  actually hot as fuck; so in a way he couldn't blame them. He'd tried it on with him many times himself, but that was another story.)

"Good for you," Phichit piped up, punctuating his reply with a decisive nod. "I think we're alright with that, aren't we Chris?"

They shared a knowing look, the corners of their lips tugged up into sly smirks that, if they were meant to be inconspicuous in any way, failed at that majestically.

Chris slid an arm around Phichit's waist, unable to resist another cheeky squeeze.

"Oh, it's fine by us."

**Author's Note:**

> (The ending is lame I'm sorry but it made me laugh)


End file.
